A Dark Pillow Talk
by Di-Bee
Summary: Ashley did not die during her last teleportation, and attempts to survive away from the Sanctuary in a world where everything is darker, herself, her life, and that other frightening double-personality freak she had met.


Title : A Dark Pillow Talk

Author : DiBee( di_50)

Characters/Pairing : Ashley Magnus/Adam Worth

Rating : Strong T!

Warnings : Dark! Violence! Drugs

Challenge : Sfa-flashfic community's prompt n°3 : AU.

Summary : Ashley did not die during her last teleportation, and attempts to survive away from the Sanctuary in a world where everything is darker, herself, her life, and that other frightening double-personality freak she had met.

Author Note : I have hardly ever written something so dark and (add inappropriate adjectives here). It was written between a death!fic and a post-death!fic, while seriously depressing. Having overrun said depressive mood, the sequel might never come to be, but I am not sure it is a bad thing. It is really, really frightening to find out just how easier it was to sketch Adam's speech rather than Ashley's behavior. Maybe I am totally OOC, but I will let you judge of that.

Ashley caught her reflection in the dirty mirror. It really wasn't a sweet sight, pale, with dark circles around her eyes, her jaw slightly too prominent, and the weight she had lost. Working a couple times, or maybe was it a dozen, as a hired gun had allowed her to get enough to rent a small room, right above a bar which looked bad enough that no one inside had not something to reproach himself. It was mostly men, and her. The first night she had spent in the bar, she had beaten every challenger at pool, and beaten the crap out of the remainder of her 'admirers'. Now she had her spot by the bar, and peace when she wanted to keep her counts, or play darts. She proved good enough to have everyone scooting behind her when she had a 'try'. At first, she had won even more with bets on darts than she had with her 'talents for secrecy'. Then people had started to understand that, no matter how often they bid, she would always win anyway, so it was no use spending their money on that, and it was better to drink to the local champion. She also proved about to be able to resist any alcohol she was presented with, and had had to turn to more illicit substances when she needed to mute the pain of her permanent transformation.

Yet, it was not only about the pain anymore. There was hardly anything left of Ashley Magnus, much more of the new, dangerous and murderous Ashley. She had chosen her new name carefully, an homage more than anything. Now, she was Ashley Montague. She had not wanted to change her first name, she still replied to it whatever happened, so it was, in some way, just safer like this.

Then, there had been that guy. He had reminded her of Tesla in some way, in a far more wicked way. He was older than her, but she looked a good ten years older than her age anyway, and felt much older. His eyes had been screaming danger, he had laughed at her first 'snapping' at him, and turned out oh far more dangerous. They had engaged in a mock combat, each of them deadly sure they could just shrug the other pff whenever they wanted to, but hadn't found the need to. Their relation from that moment on had been more about need than anything, there were no hurt feelings, the only feelings there were being hate, anger, violence, and the occasional tiredness. He had proven himself in bed, and she had proven him no matter how deep he was to hurt her, she would heal almost immediately. She had bit him once or twice, leaving marks, and his sole response had been words that hurt as much as the blood on her hands aroused her. In those moments, it was the killer taking control entirely, it was dark, and dangerous and so powerful.

He was not there all the time, she had contracts, he had projects he trusted no one but his two selves with. When he was there, she felt part of her appease, the old part stopped trying to cease control, the 'dormant' one able to let go without fearing to hurt anyone. When he was not, she would just roam the streets, kill time, kick dustbins, avoiding any part of town where she knew she would find abnormals.

Then, there would be another round of whispered insults and inhuman clawing. Until that one night.

The way he had pronounced her name, which he rarely did, had made her shiver, although for once it was more of fear than anticipation. As if she was a prey, and in their game, he often was hers instead of the other way around. Something in the way he had said it was not quite right, and there was something else he had said that had sounded far too... familiar, but she could not replace it. The second his lips had crushed harshly on hers, she had felt him grin, and although she was not surprise it was once more his 'demon' taking control, there was something abnormally arrogant in that grin. The next thing she knew, he had resumed his 'small talk' trying to find her weak point, failing mostly, until she snapped at his mentioning his father. If there was one person in the world she would have liked not to be reminded of, especially in such conditions, it definitely was her father. But, surprisingly, he had not insisted on it, just let it flow, mentioning daily, bearable, pains. That night, she had gone relatively easy on pain-killers and darker substances, and she knew she was probably just a dozen insult and drops of blood away from falling asleep until he started speaking. Really speaking.

"You're so like her, Ashley. So like her, you don't realize." For once, his words had a meaning, and although it was still the darker side of his speaking, there was a softer side when he pronounced the article, despite the obvious hatred behind each word.

"Oh, you're a Magnus alright, Ashley, so like your mother." She had snapped completely, her hand constricting his throat, but he was still smirking as he started to run low on air.

"You have no idea." He whispered with the little air he had left. "Most of this violence doesn't even come from poor Johnny." She had wanted to kill him, right this moment. But she also wanted to know. Just exactly how much he knew about her, about her parents. How he had known.

She had left him enough air to take another breath and resume his hushed monologue.

"They wanted to kill me so badly, the Five of them. Oh, Griffin was merely there to avoid being prosecuted, I'm sure. And Nikola must have been bored out of his genius mind. But your father... I don't need to tell you what he did, you probably know, and for those things, imagination can be so much harder to take than descriptions, especially when one knows what it's about, isn't it Ashley. But he did not kill me. He had the power to kill me, or send me to jail, and he chose to let me 'die' my way. Good old lad. Maybe he had a soft side after all. I mean, other than for Jimmy. Those two were like fire and oil, highly flammable. James was also your dear mother's soft side. Her conscience. Her very, very dirty conscience. And I don't care if the disappearance of her murderous lover shut off her common sense, there was nothing human left already before that, I believe. The blood had been their undoing, their sweet and sour death. They had enriched theirs, and felt the need to spill that of others. Over and over, and over."

He continued rambling, and she kept listening, her stare on his lips rather than his mad eyes. Her hand on his throat progressively gave him more and more freedom to breath, to finish the story. The one no one had ever deigned telling her. The dark side. The more he talked, the wider his grin, and she felt threatened by it despite her being in control of his breathing, of his _living_ once again.

"You're as much of a killer as they were, Ashley. Your mother's looks, and spirits, your father's killing spree, and, oh, that sweet underlying vampiric tendency of yours. So lovely. You really must be your mother's favorite monster, aren't you."

"Stop" she hissed, crushing his throat fully again, his lips and eyes still laughing. "She is nothing like you think she is."

"She's just a bitch with a strong taste for dangerous and murderous men. Soul mates, really." It wasn't even a whisper, she had read on his lips more than anything, but she could feel her heart _bleed_ inside, she felt fully _alive_ again, and she feared to lose control any moment.

"Go away." She hissed again.

"Go away!" She yelled this time, using her grip on his throat to send him as far as she could, far from her.

"Or what, you're gonna kill me, Ashley? Follow your parents' path, avenge your mother's name? Why not, after all, you're just a cold blooded killer aren't you? You could. But you won't. Because, now, you'll need to know the truth, Ashley. Leave the torture to Mommy, now, would you."

His smile was as wicked as she had ever seen it, and so freaking mad.

"By the way, I left a 'note' from you. Tomorrow will be another day, my darling. Say hello to Mommy for me."

He said as he got up to leave. Leaving her stilled, trying to canalize the anger running though her veins harder and darker than before. His words had so much Victorian England undertones now she could have torn him apart just for pronouncing them. But she didn't. Instead, she gripped the sheets, anything within her reach. Killing him would just prove his point. And somewhere, deep inside, she knew he had been right on at least one thing. At least one of her parents would adore torturing him at length , and it would be far more satisfying to watch that him just bleeding to death with that devious smile on his face.


End file.
